


hands down

by TeresaChristina



Category: Fleetwood Mac (Band)
Genre: F/M, First Kiss, I Will Go Down With This Ship, Popsicles, Reminiscing, Summer, Teenagers, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-04
Updated: 2019-05-04
Packaged: 2020-02-23 19:54:40
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,878
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18708898
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TeresaChristina/pseuds/TeresaChristina
Summary: An ordinary summer day turns into something more. (fritz era) Contains sexual themes that may be mildly NSFW.





	hands down

_we're doing fine we're doing nothing at all_

She was trying to kill him. He was sure of it.

They had been sitting in his backyard, side by side on matching lawn chairs placed under a big leafy shade tree in order to find some relief from the harsh afternoon sun. Stevie was chattering on about something that had happened at a party she went to the night before, idle gossip that he didn't really care about and wouldn't remember five minutes later, but still he hung on her every word. Anything to keep her talking, to keep watching her as she laughed and smiled and brushed her knee against the outside of his leg every time she moved.

"And so then Robbie told him- oh my God. Do you hear that?"

"Hear what?"

She nods toward the street, and it's only then that he notices the tinkling sound of Mary Had A Little Lamb gradually becoming louder. "It's the ice cream man!"

"So?" he asks, but she's already jumped up and grabbed her purse. "You're seriously going to go chase him down?"

"Uh, yes? I'm sweltering out here and I'm dying for a popsicle. You want anything?"

"I'm good," he says before she dashes off, grateful that she can't tell how he's unable to take his eyes off of her as she runs past him. The bathing suit she's wearing dips low in the back, and he imagines what it would be like to kiss the little notches in her spine one by one, down to her waist and...

_Fuck._ He's gotta stop doing this.

She's spent most of the summer hanging around his place in any one of a dozen different swimsuits, and it's simultaneously the best and the worst thing that's ever happened to him. The best, because- well. That's obvious. She's the most gorgeous girl he's ever seen and for some reason, she wants to be around _him_. He definitely doesn't have any complaints about that. And it's not just that he 'has a serious hard-on for her' (those were his brother's words, not his). She's a good friend, even if sometimes she talks so much that he can't understand what the hell she's actually trying to say. He's content to listen. But when he _does_ get a word in, she acts like everything he says is fascinating, which is weird because he knows it's not. He's not much of a talker and he never has been, but he'll talk to her.

So she's one of his best friends, which is the reason why he shouldn't be thinking about her the way that he does. One of the many reasons, actually. She would probably kill him if she knew, and his girlfriend _definitely_ would. He tries not to, but then it's nighttime and he's all alone and he can't stop himself from remembering how she looked when she stood up and untied the sash of that little green robe she wears when she's not in the pool, shrugging it off of her shoulders and then tossing it onto the chair behind her. He's certain she has no idea what that does to him, how it drives him insane in the same way as when she falls asleep face-down on her towel and her ass is just...right there.

He's always so tempted to cover her up when she does that, just casually throw something over her, but he's afraid he'd wake her up and she'd ask what he was doing and then things would get weird. He couldn't tell her that he doesn't want their other guy friends looking at her like that, because it would imply that he was looking too. But he's definitely not the only one noticing her. The week before last, Sally's cousin from Oregon had come to visit and he had honed in on her like an ugly, mangy cat who's just spotted a mouse, if the mouse had long blonde hair and a blue bikini.

"Tell him she has a boyfriend," he hissed at Sally as he watched the two of them splashing each other and laughing.

"Why? It's not like they're making out," Sally said. "Stevie's a big girl, I think she can handle it herself."

He hears a shriek and turns his head to see Stevie gripping this guy's shoulders as he carries her around piggyback style, all the while giggling hysterically, and there's no way he can put up with this all weekend. "Oh yeah? So you'd be okay if that was me? He's been staring at her tits since he got here."

"Seriously, Linds? It's not like she even has-" Sally bit her lip, and for a second he thought his stupid mouth had gotten him in trouble again, but she just nodded. "Fine. I'll talk to him."

He muttered a thank you and got up to go out behind the garage and have a smoke. Once when he was a kid, his mom woke the whole house up with her screaming when she saw a raccoon paddling around in the shallow end. His dad chased it away with a broom, but his mom insisted on having the pool completely drained and cleaned, meaning no swimming for a whole week. At eight years old, it was the worst time of his life. But now he's 18 and he would pay that little rabid fucker to come back and give him an excuse to tell everyone they couldn't come over and use the pool anymore.

Fortunately, Sally didn't bring him back and Stevie never mentioned him again, so he didn't have to resort to such drastic measures. That didn't completely solve his problem, though, because-

He looks up and sees Stevie standing by the fence with a hand on her cocked hip, holding a popsicle that was as red as the stripe running across the chest of her white swimsuit. "I wanted grape, but that little asshole kid that lives on the corner got the last one."

"Guess you should've ran faster?" he mumbles, his dick stirring as she flicks her tongue across the tip of the popsicle.

"Eh, it's okay. The ice cream guy felt bad for me so he gave me this one for free."

"Yeah, I'm sure that's why," he blurts out with a snort, eyes growing wide when he realizes he said that out loud. Shit.

He half-expects her to get offended and ask him what the hell he meant by that. Instead she just gives him a shrug and a knowing smirk as she saunters past, sitting back down beside him and crossing her outstretched legs delicately at the ankle.

Man. He's so fucked.

_these hearts they race from self control_

She _really_ was not making this easy on him.

He tried to avert his eyes, to not watch her cherry-stained lips wrapped around her popsicle (why did they have to be shaped like that? Who the hell came up with that idea?). But then she starts making these tiny little slurping noises, and although they're so soft that his ears can barely hear them, his cock is picking them up loud and clear. He makes a quick grab for his guitar and starts to pick out the melody to a Byrds song he knows she likes, hoping to distract himself until she's finished with that damn thing.

It's not going to help, though, not when he already knows what that mouth and tongue are capable of doing. They had made out once before, and despite it only lasting a couple minutes before she freaked out, it was more than enough to ensure that he would never be able to get it out of his head. She's always there, even at the most inconvenient times. _Especially_ then. He hates it, because he really does try to be a good boyfriend, and thinking about another girl while you're having sex is a pretty shitty thing to do but he _just can't stop_. Can't stop thinking about undressing her, lying her down beneath him. Touching and kissing every millimeter of skin he can reach until she's crying out, begging him for relief. Wondering what it felt like to be inside her and what she looked like and sounded like when she came, because he's sure it's something close to otherworldly.

And now he's picturing her sinking to her knees, big eyes sparkling when she takes him in her mouth. He's got one hand on her shoulder, thumb brushing over the side of her neck, stroking the top of her head affectionately with his other hand as she swallows him down.

"Why did you stop playing?" she asks, rousing him from his trance-like state. But before he can answer, he's cut off by her laughter as the last chunk of her popsicle falls off of the stick and onto the grass below. "Shit, it was melting faster than I could eat it!" She continues giggling as she notices the red juice dripping down her fingers and pops her pointer finger into her mouth to contain the mess. "Ooops."

"Are you done?" he grumbles, trying to think about anything except watching those bright red lips moving up and down his dick, tongue dragging along the underside as she sucks.

If she hears the frustration in his voice, she doesn't show it. She reaches over for her sunglasses and puts them on before reclining her chair, leaning back and closing her eyes contentedly. "Keep going? I love that song."

For you, anything, he says silently.

_my hopes are so high that your kiss might kill me  
so won't you kill me so I'll die happy?_

He's stopped playing again.

She drifts off for what she thinks is a few minutes, and the only sound she hears when she awakens is the chirping birds fluttering in the trees above her head. But that's not what she notices first.

She's being watched. She knows it before she even opens her eyes, can feel his gaze on her skin as surely as she can feel the warm summer air all around her.

She stays still, not wanting to spook him. There's been times she's caught him staring before, only because he tries so hard to pretend that he's _not_ looking at her that it becomes painfully obvious what he's doing. It would actually be more inconspicuous if he just announced _hey Stevie, I'm going to be checking out your boobs now_. It's not like she would tell him no. She's more self-conscious about her body than she lets on, scrutinizing her stomach and her thighs and her flat chest in front of the mirror and then hiding them behind wraps or sundresses for as long as possible, and yet that's all forgotten when it's just the two of them. It's only fair, she figures, because he's not the only one whose eyes are wandering. She spends plenty of time herself admiring him, but she just knows how to do it without getting caught.

Unable to resist any longer, she slowly opens her eyes just wide enough to see him from beneath her lashes. He's so focused that he doesn't notice, neither of them moving as she watches him unabashedly drinking her in, and the fluttering in her stomach increases as she tries to hold her breathing steady.

If it was anyone else, she'd be unnerved by the intensity of his stare. Even her boyfriend probably couldn't get away with it for this long without her getting uncomfortable and asking him _do you want sex? is that it? just say so and stop being weird_. But this is different. It doesn't feel intrusive, or like she's being salivated over in the way a hungry cat would look at a caged parakeet. There's this soft awe and adoration in his eyes, a silent longing that she knows all too well.

She fights a shiver despite the afternoon heat, noticing out of the corner of her eye that her nipples are now clearly visible through the thin material of her swimsuit. His hand is flat on the armrest of his chair, just inches away from her, and she imagines him reaching underneath the v-neck of her suit and covering her breast with his palm. Squeezing it gently, rubbing-

She bites down on her lip to suppress a groan, so distracted by the growing ache between her thighs that she doesn't immediately realize that she's been caught. Their eyes meet and she expects him to turn away as she prepares to pretend she didn't see anything out of the ordinary, sparing him the inevitable humiliation to follow.

But he's not turning away. He's not fidgeting or apologizing or hardly even breathing, although she does detect a slight blush rising across his bare chest. So she does the same, looking back at him as she traces the contours of his face with wide, unblinking eyes.

She slowly lets her gaze trail downward. Her breath hitches when she sees that he's visibly hard, the fabric of his shorts doing nothing to conceal his obvious arousal. He has to know that she sees, she's not even being subtle anymore, but he's still not moving and she's not sure if he's frozen in embarrassment or if he's just accepted that there's no trying to hide it at this point.

She wants to touch him. She thinks he would let her if she were to lean over and wrap her hand around him, stroking him until he found some release. She so badly wants to do that for him, girlfriends and boyfriends be damned- no one would ever have to know. It would be their secret.

The temptation is almost overwhelming until she remembers that Mrs. Buckingham is lurking somewhere inside the house and the backyard is clearly visible from the living room window. She knows that the moment is fragile, that speaking or even standing up and silently beckoning him to follow her will break the spell and they will both remember that they don't do This, whatever This is.

So instead she reaches out very gradually, giving him more than enough time to pull away if he wants to, and rests her hand on top of his. She draws long lines over his outstretched palm with her fingers, wishing desperately that she could take that hand and place it between her legs so that he could feel the effect he had on her.

Their eyes never straying from one anothers', he laces their fingers together and lifts both of their hands up. She looks at him curiously, unsure what he's about to do until he presses the tip of her index finger, the one that's still slightly sticky from the popsicle, against his lips. He smiles and she knows he must be able to taste it.

She watches with rapt fascination as he kisses the other three fingers in order and then returns to his original destination, his mouth tracing the faint streaks of red down to her palm. He blinks as if asking permission and she nods almost imperceptibly despite not knowing what she's agreeing to. It doesn't matter. In this moment, she's completely his.

He slowly kisses all over her palm, both of them still studying each other silently. She's never had anyone spend this much time and attention on her hands before, and the look in his eyes says he's not quite sure what he's doing either, but she understands. This is somewhat safe territory, crossing the line of what's acceptable for platonic friends while staying innocent enough that they could tell themselves that they weren't breaking any rules. If it wasn't something he did with his girlfriend, then it's not cheating, no matter how intense it got.

Both sets of eyes were still focused only on one another, watching each other through her splayed out fingers as his mouth continued exploring her tiny palm. He would press his lips to one spot before brushing them lightly over a different area, paying close attention to even the smallest reaction. Learning her. She knows that her hand was just a substitute for all the places on her body that he really wanted to be discovering, and yet his every movement is so deliberate that the intimacy of the moment is almost overwhelming.

He gently wraps his fingers around her forearm and she flexes her hand to give him access to her wrist. The skin is thinner here, the veins closer to the surface, and she swears he must be able to feel her heartbeat racing. Sure enough, his eyes widen as he kisses over the pulse point, pupils blown as if he's only now realizing just how deep under his spell she truly is.

They both sense that this is rapidly approaching a place where there's no turning back, where someone is going to have to take a major risk because they can't go on this way much longer. Something big is about to happen, and she doesn't think either of them know what this is really leading to, but she's ready to find out.

His teeth scrape over her wrist with just the tiniest amount of pressure, but it's enough for her to shatter their silence with a small gasp. She lets her head fall back against the chair, her body automatically arching toward him. _Please_.

"Linds? Honey? Are you back here?"

And then in an instant, it's all over.

_you kissed me like you meant it  
and I knew that you meant it_

"Man...as soon as you heard Sally's voice, you jumped into the pool so fast!"

"I didn't even stop to take my sunglasses off first," Stevie recalled, both of them cracking up at the memory. "I just went for it."

They had been lying in bed together talking over the events of the day when they heard an ice cream truck passing by, causing them to start reminiscing about that summer afternoon years ago. "You took off pretty quick after that, though. I never saw you floor it out of the driveway like that before."

"Well, it was kinda obvious that she didn't want me hanging around as a third wheel. Plus, I had...things to take care of."

"Oh? So what did you do when you got home?" he asks, kissing her bare shoulder.

"Hmm," she murmurs as she leans in until their foreheads are touching. "If I remember correctly, I ran into my room...locked the door...stripped off my swimsuit..."

"Yeah? And then?"

She giggles, playfully pushing at him. "Like I'm going to tell you!"

"You're such a little tease!" He attacks the ticklish spot right above her hip and she wrinkles up her nose as she's overcome by laughter. She tries to get away from him but he's too fast, throwing his arm around her waist and pulling her closer until her back is flush against his front. "You know, you _could_ just give me a demonstration..."

"Yeah, you wish, Buckingham. Besides, I'm sure you did basically the same thing once- how long did you sit with that guitar in your lap, anyway?"

"It took some time."

"Mmm, I bet," she says, purposely grinding her ass up against his dick as she turns to look at him. "For a second there, I was considering living the rest of my life at the bottom of your pool like a mermaid. I was scared that you would start being all awkward-"

"Start? Really?"

"More than usual," she clarifies, her fingers drawing lazy patterns over his chest. "Or that you'd overthink it and get bitchy like you do when you're in your head too much. Bitchier than usual, I mean."

"You're saying _I'm_ bitchy?" he asks, pretending to be offended.

"We can go to the record, if you'd like." She extends her arm toward where her journal is sitting by the bedside table, but he pulls it back in until her hand's on his chest again and tells her he'll take her word for it. "But then, I remember...you looked at me when I came up for air, and you gave me that little smile over Sally's shoulder, and I knew we were gonna be alright."

"I was kinda worried about how you'd react too," he admits.

"Oh?"

He nods. "But then you came over early before practice the next day and gave me a handjob in the garage so I figured...I guess we're cool."

"You guessed?" she repeats, both of them laughing again.

"Uh huh." He kisses her forehead and the tip of her nose before pressing her lips to his own. "I wanted to touch you so bad, but you wouldn't let me."

"I had my period. And don't forget that I let you play with my tits for at least a half hour, so it's not like I was holding out on you."

"'Let me'," he scoffs, thumb flicking over her nipple. "Like you were complaining."

"Mmm. I definitely wasn't...actually, do you want to know a secret?" she asks, cheeks slightly flushed.

"Course I do."

"I didn't really have my period."

"What? You didn't?"

"Nope." She's blushing even more now, not making eye contact. "You're gonna think this is funny. But I, um. I might have been a little...too enthusiastic with myself the night before."

"You mean-"

"I thought I had to be walking like I fell off a horse! I felt like there was no way someone wasn't gonna notice," she says, shaking her head with laughter. "Anyway, I just didn't want the first time we did that to be miserable because I was so sore. So I had to hope what we _did_ do was good enough for you that I'd get a second chance."

"Jesus, Stevie, now I definitely need a demonstration," he says, clearly trying to visualize the scene for himself.

"I said no! Besides...you know what?"

"What?"

"You're much, much better than my fingers could ever be." She turns her head back toward him, cupping his cheek and kissing him softly. "That was sort of the beginning of the end for us, wasn't it? Or maybe the end of the beginning. We weren't going to be able to go back to the way we were before. I knew my relationship was already on its last leg, so...it felt like it was just a matter of time."

"And then you were single, and I knew it was now or never. That I'd be kicking my own ass for the rest of my life if someone else snatched you up because I waited too long to make a move."

She shakes her head. "They wouldn't have. It was always going to be you."

"Always?"

"Mmhmm."

He reaches for her hand and kisses her knuckles. "I love you, y'know."

"I love you too, baby." She runs her fingers through his hair, giving him a seductive smile. "So, you want a demonstration?" He nods eagerly, but before he can say anything, she continues. "Or maybe you could just give me a hand yourself?"

"Oh, I'll give you more than a hand," he growls, flipping her over onto her back as she dissolves into laughter yet again.

_hands down this is the best day I can ever remember_


End file.
